


Gravity

by Byrdybyrd



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Amputation, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Della Duck angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Post-Episode: s02e24 Moonvasion!, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Reflection, Sibling Bonding, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:48:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23081200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Byrdybyrd/pseuds/Byrdybyrd
Summary: The world felt heavier than it had ever felt before, and Della wasn't sure how to deal with it by herself.
Relationships: Della Duck & Donald Duck, Donald Duck & Della Duck
Comments: 3
Kudos: 86





	Gravity

**Author's Note:**

> Hng I wrote this in like 30 minutes in class. Sorry if it makes no sense.

Della felt like she was being crushed.

Now, Della knew that she was one to exaggerate at times, but this was real. She knew what it was like to be crushed, pinned, and trapped under stupid debris on the stupid moon. She had sawed her own leg off, so the engine nozzle wouldn’t squish her to a tiny smudge on the dust. Yes, after two months of recuperating, Della understood being crushed.

But this gravity, Earth’s gravity, had her pressed to the ground. There were times she struggled to keep her head up, and pushing herself out of bed left her panting. Della would lift something that should have been light, but found herself struggling to get off the ground.

When she had arrived back on Earth, she’d wanted nothing more than to run straight home, see her uncle, brother, and her boys. However, as soon as getting out of the rocket, her insides dropped and she doubled over, heaving up oxychew and what little she had in her stomach. Her head pounded as blood attempted to circulate, and struggled to get back to her feet. Everything was so much heavier.

She was heavier. When she fell, or jumped, the force sent a shock up through her prosthetic, jolting the joints and bringing tears to her eyes. Della knew that when she had built the leg, it wasn’t to support the weight she carried now. She’d considered going to Gyro Gearloose to explore getting a replacement, but the thought of anybody else touching her work made her feel sick.

Perhaps the most pressure that Della felt was in her head. If she stood up, she’d feel faint. She had constant headaches, and every sound had her temples throbbing. On the moon, after 11 years of solitude, the only sounds were her own voice, and the occasional groan of her leg and the ship. Now, back in the mansion, the noise was overwhelming.

She wasn’t used to eating, either. She spent her first night back regurgitating whatever she had poured into her stomach. It was what led her into the bathroom to cut her hair in the first place. Even after the invasion, with Donald back and things almost being back to normal, Della struggled to down more than two meals a day.

Donald knew. Of course he did, he was her twin. He noticed every jump, every stumble, and every skipped meal. Della was thankful that he chose not to tell anybody. Deep down, she knew she needed therapy. Her prolonged isolation and guilt probably had people dying to study her.

Tonight, it was raining. Della had missed the rain. She sat on the roof of the mansion, her legs pulled tight against her chest. Della was aware of somebody climbing up behind her, gently sitting down. He thought he was silent, but there wasn’t much Della missed now.

It was silent for a minute, before her companion spoke. “I just put the boys to bed. They wanted to know where you were.” Ah, Donald. Go figure.

“Sorry, I just needed a second,” Della responded, not bothering to look at her brother. She kept her eyes trained on the streets below her, the feeling of being above everyone still natural.

Donald didn’t say anything at first, but looked at his sister. “You weren’t at dinner either. Talk to me.”

Della sighed. “I wasn’t hungry. I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Yes you do. Come on,” the sailor urged, scooting closer to Della. “I just got you back, and you’re a completely different person. You don’t talk to anyone about… anything important. I can’t help you if you close yourself off.”

There was another beat of silence. “I miss the moon, Donny.” Della saw his eyebrows shoot up in surprise, but she continued, “I can’t get used to all of this. I mean, maybe with time, but… it feels wrong. Everything is loud, and heavy, and- and sometimes I can’t breathe when I’m with everybody. I guess it was stupid of me to assume home would be a carbon copy of how it was when I left, but I… I don’t feel  _ right  _ when I’m here.”

Donald let her talk, taking in every word. He waited until she finished, and gently placed his hand over hers. “Is this heavy?” he asked, studying Della. She looked at him in surprise but shook her head. “Good,” Donald said. “Because nobody here is trying to crush you. I understand that this family is overwhelming. Believe me, I know. But you just need to talk to us. Don’t act like everything is ok when it’s clearly not.”

“But I am-”

“-No, Della. You’re not. But that’s alright. You don’t have to be ok, you just have to be you. Take those small steps to get better. Yeah, you may fall, and you might go backwards some days, but that’s fine. We’re all here to help you. Don’t push us away.” He added, “don’t push me away.”

And then, for the first time since crashing back on Earth, Della let herself cry over the entire situation. She wrapped herself around her brother and bawled.

Suddenly, the world didn’t feel so crushing.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Check out my other Ducktales fics if you get the chance!


End file.
